The hunter opens the hut's door, he enters. As always, the woman is sitting at her low table, kneeling on one of the woven mats that line the floor of her home. The man steps closer.

"Could I humbly request that you take off your shoes?" the woman says, before he has a chance to step on one of her mats with his boot's muddy sole. He clicks his tongue, and retracts his foot.

He slips the boots off, setting them aside near her pair, which are almost pristinely clean. He props his up sword against the wall, and steps onto the first mat, it creaks softly beneath his weight.

The hunter steps up to the short table, with barely a gap between its surface and the woven floor matting, and sits down. His form of sitting contrasts heavily against the fox's refined, straight posture as she kneels with her hands in her lap.

"So? Are you finally going to tell me that story, for the other day?" he asks. She can no longer delay the inevitable, as she had promised. Instead, she only tips her furry ears to the side, bearing a gentle smile on her face.

"Would you like tea, first?" she asks, gracefully attempting to gain a few minutes more.

"Fine, but speak up already." the hunter replies with his elbow on the table, devoid of even a shred of the fox's grace.

She bows slightly, and stands up from the table. She hangs a small iron pot just above the hearth, which occupies the space in between the floor mats. As usual, she pours the hot water into the leaf-filled bowl, and whisks it in a time-wasting ritual, much to the hunter's chagrin.

She takes the tea bowl into both of her delicate hands, and kneels at the table at the side of the man. She sets it down in front of him, then gets up again. She takes her own bowl, kneels at the table, then sets it down on the table on the opposite end of the hunter.

The hunter sighs, displeased something so simple as brewing a tea took so long, but he knew what agreeing to it would entail. He blows into the bowl, forcing some steam out, and he takes a small sip.

"Are you done yet? Can you start now?" he asks impatiently. The fox simply smiles gently again and politely bows a little, with both of her hands in her lap again.

"Well then, well then…"

The Cunning Fox, the Foolish Village and the Foolish Fox

Long ago, long ago, there was a young and a cunning fox. A bitter winter was only beginning, and she aimlessly traveled the land, each night growing colder than the last. A fox she may have been, but she was a social creature, just like humans. She desperately sought out warmth, it didn't matter which.

Finally, she found what she was looking for. Hungry, thirsty, tired and frozen, she forced out the last scraps of her strength to wade through the snow, towards the warm glow of the human village, just down the hill in front of her.

Despite her desperation, she did not make a step further than into just the village itself, before collapsing from exhaustion. She cursed her fate as she lay there face-first in the snow, with but a tip of her golden tail sticking out, like a bizarre winter flower.

She wondered what she could have done differently, resolving to be more selfish in her next life, as the snow sapped the last of her strength and her tears froze her eyes shut. A comforting warmth washed over her, thinking it to be her life's final mercy, as her consciousness faded.

A crackle of a fire woke the fox, who was warm and comfortable in a bed, confused as to why her next life seemed just like her last. She noticed a kindly and small old man sitting by a fire.

He noticed her awake, too. With a smile, he explained that the villagers found her in the snow, and brought her to his home. He never declared himself so, or desired his position, but he was their village chief, and as he told the fox, he was waiting out the last of his days in peace.

The fox was given a warm meal and drink, having been asked nothing in return. The villagers explicitly allowed her to remain amongst them, and so she did. The village chief took care of her, but mere months later, much to the villagers' anguish, he embarked onto his next life.

The young fox was now left without a caretaker, and being no good with her hands, she had no way to provide for herself. And during the harsh winter season, her only expertise of foraging and producing medicine was rendered worthless.

The fox hatched a cunning plan in her pointy-eared head. She would sneak out at night, preferably during blizzards, and steal what was available. Initially, the cunning fox was greatly successful. She managed to steal money, food, tools, all the things she could covertly trade.

However, as the winter softened into spring, the fox failed to realize something vital. A small village such as this was very tightly-knit. All the villagers knew each other by name, and she was the only outsider. When they realized the village had a thief, it did not take long at all for them to find out who it was.

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Even if they had no evidence, and it was her word against another, they knew it could not be anyone else. Fortunately for the fox, the village did not practice barbaric punishments, and her life was spared for the time being.

Instead, they chose to exile her. Many of the villagers were displeased with this, but they agreed with a heavy heart, that it was necessary. The fox was dismayed at the prospect of wandering alone without a goal again.

However, as if by divine fiat, a pure coincidence that she simply happened to walk into, she hatched another clever plan.

The cunning fox returned to the village, the villagers were furious as they just had exiled her, but they were also quite curious as to why she had a severed head of a large beast with her, rolling it to the village as if it were a massive snowball.

She explained to the angry villagers that the beast was planning to attack the village, but she had killed it. She apologized for violating her exile, bowed politely, and turned to walk away.

Exactly as planned, one of the men called out to her, asking her to wait. The villagers still did not favor the idea of forcing someone out of the village, and having had found out the fox has likely saved their lives, he appealed to the villagers in her name.

The villagers proposed an arrangement to the fox. She will protect the village from threats and keep it safe, and in return, the village will shelter her and provide for her. Naturally, the fox agreed.

The village had a small, but well-trained militia force. There was no chance of them ever becoming an aggressive threat, as the village was too sparsely populated. However, the militia served well to ward off animal attacks, and small groups of bandits.

When the mighty fox settled into the village, the villagers agreed that the militia no longer had a reason for being, and they have dissolved it, no longer paying the militiamen to assemble and train.

However, the village failed to realize, the cunning fox deceived them all most perfidiously. She has lied about killing the beast, the truth was that she simply found it crushed under the snow, that presumably fell on it from a heavily snow-laden tree, as it laid to rest underneath it.

The deceitful fox lived well for the months of spring, as it warmed. The villagers kept to their promise, and she was wanting for none. Being a nigh-revered figure, she received plenty of warm words and respect from the foolish villagers.

The comfortable life of the foolish fox did not last long. A band of bandits arrived at the village, demanding everything of value, threatening to take the women and slaughter the men otherwise.

Some of the villagers took grave insult to even imply they will comply, those being the former militiamen. They, who were face to face with the bandits armed themselves, and set out against them, but they underestimated the bandits, and underestimated how much out of practice they fell.

The bandits, realizing they have had slain the village's bravest with nary an issue, retracted their demand for valuables. Instead, they craved blood and prisoners. The buildings were torched and bystanders were mercilessly murdered.

The terrified villagers ran to the fox and told her what had occurred, begging her for aid. The fox has had told them to run and hide, as they were not brave or strong enough to face the threat.

The foolish fox, having had sworn to protect the village from threats and keep it safe in return for providing her shelter, has fled for her life and abandoned the foolish villagers.

Black smoke billowed into the sky, and screams echoed out for hours as she watched the village's glow from the top of the hill. Once the bandits were satisfied with the death and destruction and left, and silence fell upon the village, she returned.

The foolish fox realized, that she was the main contributor to this tragedy, perhaps worse than the bandits themselves. After all, the bandits were open and honest about their intent when they came to the village.

She walked the village, looking for survivors where there were none. All the foolish villagers who provided for her daily needs and thanked her, either laid dead everywhere she went, or were missing.

Only then the foolish fox realized she had once again no choice but to wander the land, and had nowhere to return to.

Bitter at her own choices, she has left the village behind, setting out in a direction picked at random. The only place left for the deceitful foolish fox to go, was forward.

The fox bows towards the hunter politely, her hands still in her lap, "And that was the story of the cunning fox, the foolish village and the even more so foolish fox." she says.

The man drinks the last of his tea from the bowl, and sets it down on the low table, "Hm. That's a pretty grim tale." he comments as he looks into her golden eyes.

"Indeed. There are many lessons to learn from this." she replies, smiling and not breaking the eye contact.

"Are you not going to drink your tea? Unless you poisoned it." the hunter looks at the untouched tea in front of the fox.

"My, I would never do something as underhanded as poisoning my esteemed guest." she says, and takes a small sip, holding the bowl with both of her hands.

"So. The fox in the story is you, isn't it?" he questions the woman.

Her ears flicker for just a moment, "How rude. The fox of the story was young, foolish, and had but a single tail. I am quite old and wise, and as you can see, I have as many as three." she says as the golden-yellow fluffy tails behind her flop up and down gracefully.

"Is this all you wanted to hear, esteemed hunter?" she asks a question back.

He scoffs, "Heh. Alright. Fair enough. I'm just wondering…" he says as he gets up, and puts his shoes back on. He takes his sword in hand, and opens the exit door, but pauses in the threshold.

He looks back at the fox woman sitting at her table still, "If everyone got slaughtered or enslaved, and only the fox survived, who told you the tale?" the monster hunter says, and closes the door behind him as he leaves.

The fox's slit, golden eyes drift down to her still full bowl of tea. She stares at it in silence.